THE GIFT OF ANGER
This week, I thought of Heimdall and Gandalf. Heimdall is a lesser-known Marvel character, a friend of Thor, and a sentry to Asgard. Of course, need I elaborate on Gandalf as an ancient sage in The Lord of the Rings? Both are fictional characters, but imagined heroes based on perennial reality: an honorable sentry and an ancient sage.
Anger, when functioning well, serves both as an honorable sentry and an ancient sage. The sentry in me protects the boundaries and preserves the values I hold dearly. One of the defining moments of Gandalf was when he faced Balrog and bellowed, “You shall not pass!” Thus, anger is an honorable gift to celebrate. When anger is provoked, it has a mission to accomplish or a job to do if I activate the sentry and sage in me.
One particular incident took place some thirty years ago. I was a missionary sent by my home church, working in the organization I founded, less than an hour from the church. I remember the missions pastor visiting us one day. He was essentially asking me and others to get more involved in the home church. More than the words, the way he spoke to me offended me, as if he were above me, position-wise, in front of my staff. (I did know the propriety, especially in Korean culture, but I have refused to accept the norm and expectation.) I “stood” my ground and firmly and calmly told him that I could and would not, because of a conviction of mine that when a local church sends off missionaries, they are to do the work in the “field,” not serve both. Additionally, I told him that I would be serving with no days off all week.
Another episode comes to mind. When the organization I started began to gain influence nationally, one significant, older Korean missions leader essentially wanted to fold our organization under his. It was a power play, I knew. This, too, infuriated me. I gave him a firm no in a culturally appropriate way. Inside, I remember being profoundly upset.
Looking back, several of my values were crossed. The accepted hierarchical norm of placing pastors above missionaries infuriates me. I knew he could have cut off or reduced our support, but I couldn’t care at the time. My theological conviction, then, was that the “Church” includes both local churches and what people call “para-churches,” a term I detested. (Now, my definition of “Church” is much bigger.) When I smell a “power play” at work to me or to others, I am infuriated. Parochialism and uniformity suffocate me. I have a tendency to resist the well-worn paths. When everyone thought I should go to seminary, I didn’t. When some thought I should not start another new missions organizations, I didn’t listen. I am far more comfortable and excitable blazing new trails and learning as I go. Doing my emotions work over the last two weeks, I discovered that independence had been a value of mine since childhood. While both incidents were of medium anger, I knew I was offended and thus “fought” back.
The “righteous anger” Jesus embodied throughout his human life empowers me, and I love this Jesus. I resonated with the concept of “letting my anger flow freely,” according to Karla McLaren, The Language of Emotions. This idea of letting anger flow freely is the work of a sage. The image and invitation for me are to let anger flow out of me freely as it comes, neither repressing nor over-expressing. As my anger is not someone else’s and someone else’s anger is not mine, I would like to think that we all benefit and grow in our collective consciousness from all our “righteous” angers. When channeled well, anger is brave and wise. Anger tirelessly works to safeguard and preserve each of our God-given selves’ paths.